


Vent Fics

by xxxbuffyxxx



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, Blood, Cutting, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Gender Dysphoria, Non-Binary Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Outing, Panic Attacks, School, Self-Harm, Touch Averse Malia Tate, Trans Character, University, Vomiting, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27862329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxbuffyxxx/pseuds/xxxbuffyxxx
Summary: fics i write instead of doing the things myself, mostly written in the middle of the night so sorry if they're illegible
Kudos: 5





	1. Jackson Whittemore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm making this a full on fic, so if youre interested then look forward to that i guess also trigger warning for self harm and

jackson sat on the floor of the bathroom, fiddling with the pencil sharpener in his hand. he had misplaced his old blade, and it was probably a bad idea to use it after so long anyway, but this was a new pencil sharpener, and he didn’t want to break it so soon after buying it. 

but what the hell, right? anything he did would heal by the time ethan came back from the shops, and if he asked why it smelled like blood he could always say he had another incident with his tail. 

so fuck it. 

it was so much easier to break pencil sharpeners with claws, he realised, as before he was turned it would have taken him over 10 minutes to remove the tiny screw holding the blade, but now he had it off in below one. 

he held the blade in between his thumb and index finger, relishing in the familiar feeling of the cold metal in his hand. he had missed this. 

(he hadn't. being with ethan had made his life so much better, not having to hide who he was from everyone, including himself, and being away from the craziness at beacon hills had all been good for him.)

jackson pulled up his sleeve, looking at the scarless skin along it, he never cut his arms until the bite. 

his thighs were covered in white dashes. 

he had no idea what had triggered him so badly as he brought the blade to his arm, holding it there for a moment. no matter how many times he did this, there would always be a bit of fear, part of him telling him to stop. 

but he never listened to it. 

he swiped the blade along his arm, leaving a barely-there line, which one bead of blood left before it closed up. 

that was ok. 

he didn’t do this to bleed. 

he swiped again, and again, and again, each time with more strength and pressure down on his skin, as the blood started dripping down his arm. he grabbed the loo roll and pressed it harshly to his arm, waiting for the wounds to stop bleeding so hard, only to then bring the blade back down and swipe again. 

if he were human he would be concerned with the amount of blood he was losing, how much paper was being stained red, only to be thrown in the toilet. 

but jackson was not human. 

so he swiped again. 

he kept going and going and going, remembering how much he had messed up since the last time he had hurt himself almost 2 years ago, all the way to when he had met monroe and been _stupid!_

he only stopped when he heard the door to his and ethan's apartment being opened, and he looked up, panicked. 

had he left the door unlocked when he came back home? had someone broken in? 

normally he wouldn’t care, only he didn’t want to go and stop an intruder with his arm healing from being slashed to pieces. 

he locked the door to the bathroom with his tail and willed his wounds to heal faster, all while focusing on identifying the intruder. 

it didn’t take long, however, to figure it out, as he heard liam call out “jackson? ethan? you guys home?”

the half-kanima sighed with relief, before focusing on closing the gashes in his arm. 

“guys? i’m sorry i kinda broke in, but the door was unlocked!”

fuck. 

“hello?”

jackson wiped his arm again, mentally groaning at the blood still weeping out of his arm. 

there was a sudden knock on the bathroom door, making jackson jump so hard his shoulder hit the cabinet next to him hard. he hissed at the pain, rubbing his shoulder with his bleeding arm, getting blood on his shirt. 

fucking hell, really?

“jackson? are you in there?” he held his breath, only to immediately regret that when he heard liam’s heartbeat speed up. “jackson? you smell like blood, are you ok? i can break the door if you need-“

“i’m fine,” jackson finally said, realising he would have to think harder about getting out of this situation. his arm was still bleeding, making him almost concerned by this point, and he couldn’t let liam know what he was doing. 

he couldn’t corrupt the kid like that. 

“you’re bleeding,” liam said, and jackson had to hold back from a sarcastic comment. 

it was cute that the kid was worried about him, but it was also completely annoying that the kid was here. 

“ok, i’m breaking in now, don’t be naked,” liam said suddenly, and after a moment or two, the door was broken off it’s lock, and the makeshift-bandage around jackson’s arm was just as shit as he knew it would be. 

liam looked down at him, complete panic in his eyes for a moment as he saw the bloodstain on jackson’s shirt over his chest, his eyes analysing the situation before seeing the badly-concealed wounds on his arm, and the blade on the floor in the corner behind him. 

“do you need help cleaning up?” he asked, and jackson’s breath left him. 

“huh?” he asked eloquently, and liam laughed humourlessly. 

“i’ve been a werewolf for ages, jackson,” he said, getting his backpack off his shoulders and going through it. “i’ve had to hide a good few injuries from my parents, especially back when they didn’t know i was what i am.”

jackson’s heart broke for the kid as he brought out a first aid kit. liam grabbed his arm, him too shocked to fight, and looked at the cuts. “yeah, these are pretty deep still. how long ago did you stop?”

“when you came,” he said dumbly, still not processing what was going on. 

“hmm…” liam said, looking over the cuts. “when did you start?”

jackson only shrugged. 

liam grabbed some adhesive, dry dressing and some bandages from the first aid box, before grabbing a black towel from the box and carefully wiping the blood from his arm. “the good thing about being a werewolf is that unless the blade had wolfsbane on it you probably won’t die from blood loss…” 

he looked up to check, but jackson shook his head. 

how did the kid know this much? he didn’t really want to know, but at the same time he wanted nothing more than to ask. 

“good.”

liam got his phone out, and jackson panicked for a moment, opening his mouth to beg for him not to call anyone, but liam held his hand up to silence him. “that’s only if it’s worse than i think it is.”

he also got out pain killers, but put those behind him, out of jackson’s reach. 

he applied pressure with the towel, making jackson wince, but he didn’t fight the kid. they sat there for 5 minutes before liam said anything. “when is ethan coming home?”

“he’s due back at 8.”

liam looked at his watch, seeing it was only 6:50, and he sighed. “if these don’t stop bleeding soon i’m gonna have to call melissa.”

“don’t-“ jackson started, but the young beta stopped him. 

“no, jackson, these are super bad. and if you’ve been doing this for a long time, then you could get blood loss, in which case i’m definitely calling melissa. hold this here.”

jackson moved his hand to apply pressure, surprised to find his arm felt heavy. he told liam this as he stood, and the kid frowned at him, walking to the window and opening it. 

“i’m calling scott’s mum.”

“no, don’t!” jackson said, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop liam from grabbing his phone, and after pressing a few buttons he placed the phone behind him and pushed the towel back onto jackson’s arm. 

_“hello?”_ came melissa’s voice, and liam sighed with relief. 

“ms mccall, hi,” he said, “jackson’s arm is covered in cuts and he’s not healing, he needs help.”

_“what?”_ the voice asked, alarm obvious, and there was a clattering as if she was grabbing her phone. _“i’m on my way, is he home?”_

“yeah, i’m here too,” liam said, before looking at jackson in alarm. “oh, i need isaac’s number, do you have it?”

jackson, however, was a bit too out of it to realise liam was talking to him, and the beta realised this quickly. “melissa i think he’s going into shock.”

soon after that, jackson passed out, liam keeping pressure on his arm. 

liam cursed, wrapping the towel around jackson’s arm tightly, continuing to talk to melissa. after a few more minutes, she came into the room, and a few minutes later jackson was being wheeled into an ambulance. 


	2. Scott McCall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw transphobia ment., outing without consent

It was nearing Christmas, and Scott was getting ready to come out to their mum. 

They were very sure that she would accept them. Stiles had come out as trans a few years back and she hadn’t thought twice about it, buying him almost an entire wardrobe of masculine clothing and buying a book on transgender people, giving it to Noah after she had finished. Scott knew that the moment the words I think I’m non binary left their mouth, she would treat them exactly the same. 

But they didn't want to do it yet. 

It was still a week before Christmas, and all they could think about was that all the cards they would get from their mum would say daughter, that all the well wishes would be to Heather, how many dresses they would get under the tree. 

Scott had never been happier when their binder came a few days before, but they knew that they had to hide it until they came out, or until they went back to college in January.   
Luckily, since it was close to Christmas, they could use the excuse that Melissa couldn’t come into their room, because they were hiding presents. 

They hid the binder in their wardrobe, as well as all of the Christmas cards they had bought and a collection of unwrapped gifts for the pack. 

The pack as a whole had established that presents weren’t necessary. Most people couldn’t afford to buy presents for every single person in the pack, which had seemed to not have stopped growing since Scott had been bitten a few years back, so there was a secret Santa, and you could buy gifts if you had the money. 

Since Scott had been working for Deaton for years now, and they were very good at saving their money, they had been able to buy something small for everyone, as well as buy a new fancy jacket for Jordan, his secret Santa. 

So they hid their binder amidst the pile of presents in the corner of their wardrobe, as well as piles of unwritten cards. They were sure their mum wouldn’t find the binder before they got the courage to tell her. 

Then they messed up. 

They had worn their binder to yesterday’s pack meeting. Not everyone in the pack knew they were trans, only Stiles, Allison, Lydia, Kira and surprisingly Peter. No one noticed them wearing the binder though, the only person acknowledging it being Stiles who winked at them secretly. 

The meeting overran for a few hours, and by the time Scott got home they were finding it hard to breathe. While their asthma had gone away since they had been bit, they still felt it way worse when their breathing was strained in some way. When they got home, instead of hiding the binder underneath the pile of video games and cookbooks (and the pretty silver knife they had found for Malia), they threw it in recklessly, closing the wardrobe door quickly and pulling a shirt on as Melissa opened the door, asking how the meeting went. 

So eventually, Scott forgot about it, instead painting some Christmas decorations with their mum and going to bed, binder far from their mind. 

Scott was cleaning their teeth the next day when they heard Melissa call out that she was going in their room, and they called out “don’t go in the wardrobe!”, just as they had for over a week. 

However, moments later as they were spitting in the sink, they heard their mum call out, “Heather, why do you have a binder?”

Their heart stopped, and they were filled with fear. 

They didn’t answer, feeling their eyes fill with tears and pressing the backs of their wrists to them, forcing themself to breathe as normally as they could. 

“Honey? Can you come out here please?”

“I’ll be out in a minute, mum,” they said, voice obviously strained. Their breath hitched and they squeezed their eyes shut, forcing themself to stay calm. They sat on the toilet, taking deep breaths and rubbing their eyes. They grabbed a few sheets of toilet paper and wiped their eyes, feeling their hands start shaking. Knowing they couldn't stay in the bathroom forever, they looked in the mirror, wiping their mouth of toothpaste and wiping their eyes. 

They closed their eyes, remembering all of the horror stories of people on the internet, being ignored, yelled at, hit. They never thought their mum would hurt them, but now, in this moment, it was all they could think about. 

They braced themself, and opened the door. 

Melissa was standing next to the door to their room, an unreadable expression on her face.

“I’m sorry, Baby,” she said, and she opened her arms for a hug, and Scott buried their face in her neck. “I should have remembered.”

Scott let themself start crying, squeezing tighter and feeling themself shake even more. 

“I love you sweetie, no matter what, and if I’ve made you feel any different then I am so sorry.”

Scott smiled, really starting to cry now. “I love you too, mum.”

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to,” Melissa continued, stroking her child’s hair. “You’re valid, ok sweetie?”

Scott nodded into her neck. They chuckled quietly, “you didn’t see the presents, did you?”

They felt their mum’s shoulder shake with silent laughter. “I was a bit distracted, so no, Baby, I didn’t.”

They both heard the front door close downstairs, and Chris announced his arrival loudly. The mother and child separated, and Melissa saw Scott’s tear stained face and red eyes. “You go and clean yourself up, ok? I’ll make you some breakfast.”

They smiled at her, going into their room and immediately hiding the binder underneath the presents. 

Later that day, Melissa asked if it was ok if she kept calling Scott Heather, and they were so close to telling her. I think I’m non binary, my name is Scott…

But no, Christmas was in less than a week, there would be gifts to Heather, cards to Heather, so no. They couldn’t tell her. Not yet. 

“I’m still figuring it out,” they said instead. 

And that was that.


	3. Malia Tate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw self harm mention panic attack mention eating issues

Malia wasn’t good at school. 

They got distracted too easily, they forgot to give in homework, their essays were way too short. Even their relationship with their teachers was decent at best. 

They hated it, always had, always would. 

So why they decided to go to university they would never know. Maybe it was Peter’s expectations pushing down on her, maybe it was something else. They just didn't know, but they regretted it more than anything. 

When they first got there they cried. Ever since they got their family back they had never thought they would lose them again, but as her dad’s car pulled out of the uni parking lot, Malia had never felt more alone. 

Their flatmates went out for a drink. Malia didn’t go. 

They ended up liking their flatmates. They were nice, though sometimes rubbed them the wrong way, and they never questioned their pronouns, which was nice. 

When they got their timetable they had a panic attack. Sure, there was a lot of free time, but they didn't trust themself to be able to get up for the 9am lectures, and they didn't understand the room number system, and everything was so confusing and they wanted to go home. 

They didn't. 

They didn't tell anyone. 

One of the only good things about uni was that Aiden was going to the same one, and only lived less than 5 minutes away, so they went on several runs before classes started. 

Malia didn't know how to cook. At first they tried, but after a few days they gave up, eating ramen when they were really hungry, but mostly just snacking on chocolate biscuits and drinking coffee. 

They drank with their flatmates, at one point getting so drunk they were sick in their room, calling Peter in a hurry asking for help. They didn't expect help from their flatmates. 

They didn't get it. 

Hey cried almost every night, sobbing silently into their pillow, not allowing themself to seem weak. Sure, they made themself seem small by wearing big hoodies, they cowered away from loud noises, they flinched at any touch from someone they didn't trust, but that didn't mean anything. They weren't weak. 

They hated being grouped with the girls. There were nine other flatmates, four girls and five boys, so whenever they split up it would be the five boys and the girls-and-Malia. They appreciated not being called a girl, but it still hurt. 

Before the end of the first half term, they started to slack off, getting distracted by everything and coming back to themself in the middle of a lecture. 

Sometimes they would join, apologising to the teacher and curling into themself at the annoyed look. It wasn’t obvious, not unless you were looking for it. 

Other times they couldn't bring themself to rejoin, instead turning on their music and crying, wishing more than anything they could go back and change their decision, and never come here in the first place. 

They couldn't drop out. 

It would disappoint everyone. 

Malia couldn't be a disappointment they couldn't they couldn't they couldn't they couldn't they couldn't they couldn't. 

Most of the flat had best friends, Luke and George, Sophia and Daphne, Toby and Owen, Kiara and Nathalie. 

So Malia went on a walk with a boy called Cade. He had arrived late, and he didn't feel like he fit in. Malia knew what that was like. They talked with him, not about being supernatural, but about their trust issues, about how much they hated being touched, about how afab people and people with trauma often didn't like being grabbed. They trusted Cade. he was gay too, so they felt like they had to stick together. 

At one point the entire flat was drunk, and the girls-and-Malia [nononononononono] were trying their best to get into the kitchen, where the boys had shut themselves. Malia got so close, halfway through the doorway, before one of the boys grabbed them all around, arms circling their arms trapping them against their sides and they couldn't be restrained they couldn't be grabbed let go let go let go letgo letgo letgoletgoletgo!

They went to hide in their room, locking the door behind them and hyperventilated. 

They managed to stop crying after about half an hour, but their breathing was still too fast and everything was too much, so they grabbed their phone and recorded themself, pretending they had found someone else having a panic attack and it took them another 20 minutes to get their breathing under control. During this time, one flatmate came to their door, asking if they were ok, but they shrugged it off, saying that they were comforting a friend. 

They applied some makeup to hide any sign they had been crying, and then left like nothing had happened. 

Malia went home for half term, and got a notification that they needed to talk to someone about their attendance and shitshitshitshitshitnononononono they couldn't do this they were supposed to do better no no no no no no no no.

The meeting was fast, they explained the best they could, the teacher recommended they signup for the disabilities act, they didn't have any diagnosis, they couldn't, they tried booking an appointment with their doctors, they changed their doctors, they couldn't get a diagnosis until they went back. 

They couldn't go back. They had covid, they couldn't go back, they had to stay. 

Everyone had to stay. 

This both made them feel better and worse, better because they were home and everyone else was home too and they could hug their dad [they could hug anyone, they weren't going to hug their flatmates who they didn't know and didn't trust]. Worse because no, they wanted the ‘uni experience’ they were promised and they couldn't stay here but they couldn't go back and

They were fine. 

Malia did lessons [most of them] but forgot to do the assignments. 

They could finish them before they were due. 

[They didn't. Barely any were done. Term one and they had already failed most of their assignments. Great. Perfect.]

They were fine. 

Malia was fine. 

Until they weren't, and they found themself with cuts healing quickly all over their thighs and a razor in their hand and they were fine they had to be fine. 

Cade wasn't their friend anymore. He couldn't be, not after he apparently groped someone without his consent, trying to excuse himself using his sexuality. 

They were alone again. 

Christmas came, and Malia could relax [don't check emails], they spent time with their dad [don't look at the 0s], they laughed on facetime with their pack [don't think about uni]. 

Christmas came and went, and they were fine. 

New Years came and went, and they were fine. 

The government said they had to stay home during the next half term as well, and they were fine. 

Malia and their flatmates made arrangements to live together the next year. Sure, they didn't want to be at uni next year but they couldn't let their flatmates down. Before they knew it, t was all done and payed for. 

They were fine. 

[They were breaking.]

Absolutely fine. 

Peter told them to check their email, to check if the uni had the same instructions as the rest of the country, and they panicked, but they hid it. 

They were getting better at hiding it. 

They opened their email and saw the countless ‘missing’ emails, the countless ‘i need to talk with you’ emails, the countless ‘how to deal with your anxiety’ emails. 

And they broke. 

They were fine. 

But they were broken. 

Who could help them?

They didn't know what to do.

They had no diagnosis. 

They were fine. 

They just failed. 


End file.
